For Together We Are Strong
by freakess360
Summary: Due to some playful antics, Merry, Pippin, and Boromir become caught in a misadventure after being separated from the rest of the Fellowship. Luck does not seem to be on their side, and neither do the Orcs… [ONE-SHOT] [COMPLETE]


_**FOR TOGETHER WE ARE STRONG**_

_Summary_: Due to some playful antics, Merry, Pippin, and Boromir become caught in a misadventure after being separated from the rest of the Fellowship. Luck does not seem to be on their side, and neither do the Orcs…

**A/N: I have been a LOTR fan for many, many years! I have read so much lore and background information about Middle Earth that I feel like I could live there. But what is the point of loving something when you can't share it with others? Thus, my immense need to write a story about some of my favorite characters arose.**

**I probably worked on this story (on and off) for about 6 months. The general plot actually came to me when I was actually writing the**** sequel to this story. **

**I mainly focused on the relationship between Merry, Pippin, and Boromir. In both the books and movies the Gondorian appears extremely loyal to the two Hobbits and shares a strong bond. But, the main point that is never examined, is: how does Boromir become friends with the Hobbits (and vice versa)? Boromir is very distant and calloused in the beginning but suddenly he opens up to the Fellowship and they become comrades. Something had to have happened that allowed this change to occur… and what my story does is offer some possible closure to the unanswered question.**

**ENJOY!**

_**Disclaimer:**__ All rights are reserved to __J. R. R. Tolkien_

* * *

Boromir was beginning to suspect that he was the only member of the Fellowship that had a firm grasp on reality. The idea had actually been with him for some time, but the actions of his companions that day were only confirming his suspicion more than all the previous actions on all the previous days had combined.

The Fellowship had left Rivendell not four weeks prior and it already seemed to be more dysfunctional than it had begun. The Elf and the Dwarf were constantly at odds; the feud between their Races amplified by each passing day. The pranks and insults between Legolas and Gimli became more cunning and more frequent with every fleeting moment. The Hobbits kept mostly to themselves, only really interacting with 'Strider', a name, as Boromir came to learn, that was one of Aragorn's many. Frodo was the most matured and serious among his Kin, as was expected due to the tremendous burden he carried. His serving companion, Samwise, was the epitome of loyalty and inner strength, which both his actions and words demonstrated. Boromir could not help but admire and respect this small, fair-haired Hobbit, for he secretly wished all the soldiers of Gondor would embody the same qualities that he possessed. The two youngest Hobbits, Meriadoc and Peregrin, showed themselves to be immature and childish. They always spoke of their home in the Shire and the simple ways of Hobbits. Through their stories and complaints Boromir could simply see that they had neither the heart nor the head for such a quest. Aragorn was a strong and silent leader. But it soon became apparent to Boromir that his fellow Man would not offer such a companionship that he had hoped. Aragorn seemed to dismiss all association with his own Race; often he made conversation with Legolas in Elfish and he frequently sought advise from the Wizard. Gandalf himself rarely made conversation with Boromir, and, when he did speak to the Steward's son, he spoke in riddles that made Boromir wanting to ask more questions that he first began.

Simply put, Boromir was unimpressed with the Fellowship.

It was a chilly morning when the veteran warrior found himself gazing upon the hodgepodge of people laid before him. The night before lots had been drawn to see who would take which watch during the night. Fortunately for Boromir, he was given the last watch, personally his favorite because he found pleasure in watching the sunrise each morning. Two hours ago he had relieved Gimli from his guard and was now watching his fellow travel companions wake after the rising sun.

Legolas was the first to awaken. He blinked his ever-open eyes - for Elves, much like Wizards, Boromir learned, slept with their eyes open - and gracefully stood and stretched his cramped body. Turning his gaze to Boromir, the Elf nodded in greeting. The Man acknowledged the greeting by raising his own chin in salutation. The Elf then gathered his bow and arrows before departing into the surrounding forest to routinely scout the area and talk to the Trees.

The next to wake were Aragorn and Sam. While the Hobbit blinked sleep from his eyes, the Man made his way over to Boromir to hear the nightly report. "How went the watch?" the Ranger asked. "Quiet, I presume."

Boromir nodded before responding, "Naught but the wind disturbed us this night."

Aragorn stroked his bearded chin thoughtfully. "I fear that soon the nature of our quest will become known to the Enemy. Hopefully, we will travel two weeks more before Evil learns of our secret company."

"That day has yet to come upon us," Boromir reassuringly replied. "For now we must travel swiftly and leave little trace behind while we can."

The raven-haired Ranger smiled and clapped his fellow Man on the shoulder. "Your optimism gladdens my heart, my friend. You are wise in your words, for true you are this day! Nothing yet hunts us so we shall rejoice."

Just then a sweet aroma filled the camp. The two Men turned to see Sam stoke a freshly made fire underneath a pan, in which held tomatoes, sausages, onions, herbs, and bacon. And thus, with the promise of food in the air, the remaining Fellowship arose from their slumber. Boromir stood from the rock where he had been stationed and went over to join everyone at the fire. Not five minutes later a smiling Hobbit handed him a plate of warm food. "I thank you, Master Meriadoc."

The Hobbit's grin grew. "As well you should," Merry retorted. "Had I not noticed you without a breakfast you surely would have gotten none. Pip makes it very hard for anyone to get anything to eat..." He trailed off and glanced over at his cousin. Boromir followed his line of sight and was met with the view of Pippin with his cheeks so full of food he looked more like a squirrel hoarding nuts for winter rather than a respectable Hobbit. The two smiled at each other while Merry attempted to stifle a laugh when Pippin comically tried to swallow.

Boromir proceeded to eat slowly as to savor every small bite of the little food he was given. Once he finished he licked the remaining juices from his fingers and placed his immaculately clean plate on top of the stack of dishes next to the fire. On his way back to his pack, Boromir ruffled Sam's hair affectionately and commented, "Another wonderful meal you have provided our company, little one. Assuredly without you we would have perished from starvation after only a week on the road."

Sam smiled brightly at the compliment. "I am only glad my skills could be of such use to the Fellowship."

"Do not sell yourself short, Master Hobbit," Boromir chuckled. "There is much you have yet to contribute."

"Thank you, Mister Boromir. I will take your words to heart."

The Captain-General of Gondor gave the Hobbit once last smile before continuing to his pack. He tightly rolled up his cold bedroll and packed it next to his long fur cloak and extra water skin. Boromir shrugged on his light chain mail over his tunic before sliding on his leather vest and well-made pair of Gondorian vambraces, which bore the crest of a White Tree of the House of the Stewards of Gondor. He then placed his dagger in his right boot and strapped his sword to his waist.

Boromir's large weapon was like its owner: big, broad, and powerful. It was a single-handed, double-edged sword that required great strength in the arm and wrist, both of which this skilled warrior had in abundance. The blade was over three inches across at its widest point before it flattened into a diamond shape point. The blade was sharpened on both edges so it would have been equally effective for slashing against lightly armored opponents that reached around his round shield. The heavy steal handgrip was wide to match to Boromir's hand and counterbalance the weight of this warrior's blade. The Gondorian also carried a dagger that was a little brother to his sword, matching its blade shape and pommel design. The only difference was that it was decorated with bronze details, not silver. However, unusual for a dagger, the wide blade was fuller so that in all respects it resembled the tip of Boromir's sword.

The Steward's son leaned his round, broad shield next to his pack before turning back to examine the Fellowship. The Elf and Dwarf seemed to be in a heated argument about which Race were the more accomplished warriors. Aragorn was talking to Gandalf in hushed tones while making vague motions in the air. Boromir then felt his gaze move towards the Hobbits, but upon seeing them he frowned. Only two were present: Frodo and Sam.

"Where are the little ones?" he questioned aloud.

Frodo heard his question and, looking up from his own pack, said, "They went over to a small river that Legolas found this morning so they could properly wash the dishes." He indicated the way they went with a nod of his delicate head.

Boromir's brow crinkled with concern. "I'll go after them," he reasoned, knowing full well how easily the two young Hobbits found trouble.

"Good idea," Sam voiced.

Boromir flashed them a grin, bent down and grabbed his empty water skin, and was off. Going in the direction Frodo had indicated Boromir found the river fast enough. It was little less than a ten minutes walk from camp. The warrior effortlessly spotted the cousins squatted next to the water. Decisively, Boromir stepped on a branch to make his present known. Two heads looked up and innocently smiled.

"What mischief are you plotting, young Masters?" the Man asked, observing the sparkle in the Hobbits' eyes. Pippin feigned hurt look.

"Why do you assume we are up to anything?" the raven-haired Hobbit questioned.

"Because it is your nature. If Aragorn isn't here to keep the two of you on a leash, then I'll have to," Boromir shrugged.

Pippin turned to look at Merry and asked rhetorically, "Why is it that people always think that we require a babysitter?"

Boromir strode over to where the two Hobbits knelt and pulled out the stopper on the top of his water skin. After a minute of holding it under the water he replaced the cap and tucked it back into his belt. He then cupped his hands together and drank a handful of clear, cool river water. He repeated this twice more until he was satisfied.

"Come," the veteran solider commanded. "We must return to camp, we have tarried too long and we have much ground to cover today."

"We have but one more dish to wash," Merry responded.

"Besides," Pippin spoke. "You have not had your bath."

Boromir sputtered at those words. "My _what_?"

"Your bath, you great giant," Pippin repeated. "Do you expect us to walk with you all day long in the sun while you smell like a rotting pig carcass."

The Gondorian frowned. "I do not smell."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I -" Boromir stopped arguing and tiredly scrubbed his bearded face with one big hand. "Now, listen here-" But he got no further when a huge bowl full of water hit his face. As he cleared his eyes of the water the warrior gazed upon two diabolical grins. "Don't you even try," he threatened them. The grins grew. The Man of Gondor gulped and turned around as fast as he could. Whatever they planned, he wasn't going to give them the opportunity.

"Get him!" one of the Hobbits cried. Boromir then heard the patter of oversized feet race after him. The warrior took a sharp turned and glanced behind him. His eyes widened as he saw how close the Hobbits had come. He tried to run even faster, trying to get to the tree line near the river but he never made it. One big leather boot caught on a protruding rock and with a _thump_ the big Man crashed onto the ground. He wasn't there long before two smaller bodies rammed into his, becoming a mass of tangled limbs. Then, suddenly, there was a loud _crack_ and the ground beneath the three Fellowship members gave away. Swiftly darkness overcame them as the Earth swallowed it newest victims.

* * *

"Whose foot is that?"

"Mine."

"Get off me!"

"Get your foot off my back Pip!"

"It's not me!"

"Who... Boromir?"

Silence.

"Boromir!" Two scared voices echoed throughout the tunnel in which they were now trapped.

Unhurt by the fall, Pippin shook the still body underneath him. "Boromir?" he whispered nervously. "Merry, he's not responding."

"Then help me first then we can both try to arouse him."

Pippin nodded in the dark and followed the voice of his cousin. Crawling over the warm body of the unconscious Man, he found Merry trapped underneath Boromir's legs. The raven-haired Hobbit huffed as he pulled on a bootstrap while trying to release Merry from his imprisonment. After tugging on Boromir's leg for some minutes Pippin gave up. "He's too heavy, Merry. I can't lift him."

"That's fine, Pip. Maybe you should try to wake him instead."

"Alright." Pippin then proceeded to crawl back up Boromir's body, feeling around in the dark for the Man's face. His small fingers quickly became entangled in the long hair of the warrior below him. Pippin tapped Boromir's face lightly, nothing happened. "Come on, Boromir. Wake up!" Pippin moved his hand higher before recoiling when he felt something wet and sticky. Panicking, Pippin raised his hand and slapped the bearded face as hard as he could. The reaction was immediate.

"What the-", came the startled gasp. The body beneath Pippin shifted and groaned.

"Mister Boromir, you need to get up. You are crushing Merry." Pippin called out.

"Little one?" an uncertain voice said.

"Yes. Please get up."

The body shifted again before rolling away to the right, completely releasing Merry. A shuffling was heard in the dark before Boromir gruffly inquired, "What happened?"

Merry responded, "We seemed to have fallen through some weak earth into a cavern."

"Yes, and you nearly squashed Merry!"

More shuffling. "Master Meriadoc, are you injured?"

"Naught but bumps and bruises, Mister Boromir. But you sure are heavy... and smelly," the fair-haired Hobbit added as an after thought.

Boromir huffed but couldn't help but let out one deep chuckle. The Gondorian looked around the cavern but saw nothing, not even the hole they had fallen through. The Steward's son assumed they had somehow slid off to the side before meeting the ground. "Come, little ones. We must find a way out of this darkness and regroup with the Fellowship."

"But Mister Boromir," Pippin spoke up. "You are hurt! I felt blood on your scalp."

The Man felt his forehead and indeed found blood. But as it was already beginning to dry he dismissed it. "Naught but bumps and bruises, little Masters," he mimicked. Then, gathering his wits, he stood.

_Bonk_.

Boromir rubbed his throbbing head. The cavern seemed to be very low. Stooping a little, he said, "Please take my hands, Master Hobbits, so we many not be separated in this darkness." Two small warm hands enveloped the much larger ones. "Now with your free hands feel for the edge of the cavern, perhaps we can feel out way out of this maze."

Following the Man's instruction, the Hobbits began feeling around in the dark.

"I think I have found a tunnel!" Merry exclaimed.

"Excellent," Boromir congratulated. "Let us see where it leads."

After walking for several minutes down the tunnel they had discovered Pippin began to mutter underneath his breath. Boromir turned his head slightly in Pippin's direction. "What did you say? I could not hear you."

"I said I don't like caves."

Boromir's brow crinkled in the dark. "Really? I thought Hobbits loved caves. Don't you little folk live in the ground?"

Merry responded this time. "Hobbits live in cozy little holes, not damp caves. You are thinking of Dwarves, Mister Boromir. It is not uncommon for Hobbits to _hate_ caves."

"Interesting. Well then, I suppose we had better quickly depart from these shadows." The stooped warrior snickered. "It's not that I do not enjoy your company, but I too would like to get out of these caverns. They are unnerving."

Silence settled over the group for some time after that. Holding hands, the three companions traveled down the tunnel for what felt like several hours. Though the Hobbits were feeling the way with their free hands, they willingly gave leadership to the Man they followed. When Boromir began to hear the Hobbits stumble more frequently he decided that they all deserved a break. Slowing to a stop he announced that they would rest for several minutes before continuing down the shadowed tunnel further. Sighs of relief met the Man's ears. Moving toward the left side of the tunnel, the three sat down and rested. One of the Hobbit's heads found it way to Boromir's lap while the other simply settled on his upper arm. Boromir offered each Hobbit some liquid from his water skin that still clung to his belt. They greedily drank before giving it back, half full, to their larger companion. The warrior drank his own share, but far more sparingly because he did not know when they would be able to escape these horrible caves.

Finally having a chance to feel around the cave for himself, Boromir began to wonder exactly what they had stumbled, or be it fallen, upon. One thing the Gondorian knew was that this tunnel was not Man made - Dwarves, perhaps, but not Man. Then a sudden dread crept up from the warrior's gut. It was unlikely that Goblins might inhabit these caves because they were far enough away from a mountain. But Orcs seemed like a likely culprit. However, Boromir did not want to voice his thoughts on this matter for the Hobbits were scared enough.

After musing for several more minutes Boromir gathered the Hobbits up from their rest and continued into the never-ending darkness.

"Mister Boromir?" Merry voiced.

"Yes, little one?"

"Do you know where we're going?"

"No, I do not."

"Do you think anything lives in these caves?

Boromir sighed but again answered truthfully, "Seldom are caves like these empty. But I cannot rightfully say what Evil might lurk in this darkness."

Little hands gripped Boromir's even tighter.

"Do you think we will ever leave these suffocating shadows?"

This question caught the Man slightly by surprise. "Why would you ask such a thing, Merry?" he asked informally. "Of course, we will find a way out of this dismal place."

Pippin then spoke up, "We must have been gone for hours! Strider and the others must surely be searching for us now."

"He will," the veteran soldier assured.

"Aragorn would never let us down. He will find us," Merry also said, confidently.

Boromir smiled at the young Hobbit's optimism. "Yes, for all we know, he's standing right on top of us, running his hand through his hair and wondering where we are."

"Maybe if we start shouting very loud he would hear us?" Pippin suggested.

Boromir gripped the Hobbits' hands tightly and warned, "I would not yell if I were you. We do not want to alert anything of our presence in these caverns, especially when we cannot see."

However, as soon as he said this the sound of rushing footsteps met the trio's ears. The Hobbits stiffened and fearfully gasped. Boromir gulped and began to plan a strategy should the footsteps chance upon them. Unfortunately, against all hope, the glow of a torch appeared about ten yards a head of the three companions.

"Quickly," Boromir snapped. "Get behind me." As he said this he drew his sword from its scabbard on his belt. Then, bending even lower, the soldier grabbed his dagger from its place in his boot. "Here," he said, handing the dagger to the Hobbits that were now behind him. "Take this to defend yourselves."

The footsteps grew louder and the light grew brighter. Boromir thought fast. "Hurry," he whispered gruffly before rushing towards the light.

"Aren't we supposed to run the other way?" Pippin squeaked.

"Trust me," Boromir said. The noise wasn't far off and the Gondorian needed to act quickly in order to assure the safety of himself and his two little friends. The light, which appeared to be coming from a t-section of the tunnel, was getting brighter and brighter. Boromir could only wish that he saw the Orcs before they saw him and that there were few enough to fight.

* * *

Aragorn was frantic, though he hid it well. Boromir and the Hobbits had not returned from the small river where, according to Frodo and Sam, they had left for an hour ago to wash the breakfast dishes.

"Legolas," the King-in-exile called. "Let us go the river-side and find our missing companions. Gimli, Gandalf, would you please finish packing up the camp so we may leave once we return with the others."

The Dwarf huffed a reply before turning back to the pony, Bill.

Then Man and Elf swiftly ran towards the river Legolas had found earlier that morning. Once they arrived the two warriors knew something was amiss. Dishes lay at the water's edge, clean and dry. Legolas frowned, concerned. Aragorn began looking for any traces of his lost companions. The Ranger quickly found some but was puzzled when the tracks lead back towards the tree line. Aragorn looked at his Elf-friend and said, "What do you think?"

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "I think that the Hobbits were in a playful mood, they seem to be chasing poor Boromir," the golden-haired prince reasoned.

Aragorn nodded. "I think you are correct, my friend." The Man looked around further and began to follow the tracks on the ground before him. The further he followed the tracks the more worried he became. However, his worries became a reality when the tracks suddenly ended next to a gaping hole in the ground. Aragorn halted and looked over at Legolas, horrified. The dark-haired Ranger moved closer the hole but the Elf quickly pulled him back as some of the ground gave way and fell into the deep chasm.

"Do you think they…?" Aragorn gulped.

Legolas looked grim. "I think they did."

"Run back and tell the others what has happened," the Man commanded. "Then come back and we will begin our search for Pippin, Merry, and Boromir."

The Elf quickly nodded before bounding off into the woods towards the camp. Aragorn retraced his steps and collected the clean plates and bowls at the river's edge before going back to the cavernous hole. Placing the dishes to the side, the Ranger tapped the ground with his sword in search for solid earth. Then upon finding some Aragorn inched toward the edge of the chasm and looked down into the darkness. When he couldn't see the bottom of the hole his heart sank into his boots. The exiled King prayed to the Valar that his friends had survived the fall and could find their way back to the Fellowship in one piece.

* * *

Boromir held his breathe as an Orc holding a torch turned down the tunnel he and the Hobbits were occupying. Before the beast could react, the Gondorian solider thrust his sword underneath its breastplate. Luckily, the Orc fell to the floor of the damp tunnel dead without a sound. However, there was not just one Orc. Just as the first monster of Mordor fell three more rounded the corner. And, upon seeing their fallen Kin, screeches of anger and gnarled Black Speech echoed down the tunnel.

The Captain-General of Minas Tirith, with as much grace as he could possibly muster in such a small cramped area, jumped over the dead Orc and slashed at the head of another. Still slightly surprised by the sudden attack, the servant of Sauron failed to the block the oncoming blow. The sharp edge of Boromir's great sword easily decapitated the Orc. However, with another obstacle on the ground, the Steward's son slightly stumbled before trying the block the dark blade swinging toward his forearm. Cursing under his breath, the fair-haired Man wished he had brought his shield with him to the river. Thinking quickly, Boromir deflected the blade off one of his leather vambraces. Then, with as much force as he could muster, the warrior kicked and struck the Orc with his boot, pushing it back into its companion behind it. The beasts crashed to the ground and had little time to recover before both were impaled with a broad sword.

Heaving, Boromir turned back and, in the dim shadows of the fallen torch, saw Merry and Pippin frozen in fear. Reaching out his empty hand encouragingly he said, "We mustn't tarry. There may be more Orcs lurking around these caves."

Merry, who held the bronze dagger, was the first to climb over the carcasses of the strewn servants of Sauron on the floor of the tunnel. Pippin quickly followed only after he grabbed the torch from where it fell. Boromir swiftly grabbed the little ones' hands and, climbing over the rest of the bloodied bodies, fled down the right branch of the tunnel aided by the light of the torch.

"Well, I guess we were lucky," Merry said.

"Yes, we were," Boromir agreed. "Thankfully there were so few. But though they are Orcs, they are not stupid. Once more Orcs find those bodies they will know of our presence here in these caves."

"We need to get out of here," Pippin whimpered. "I am scared, Mister Boromir."

"Do not fear, Master Peregrin. For together, we are strong." Though he said this, the soldier of Gondor looked back worriedly at the two Hobbits trailing behind him. He could tell they were pale, tired, and frightened.

The three companions walked for many more hours. Resting here and there, the Hobbits slept while Boromir stood guard. Slowly the Man's water skin became lighter and lighter as the company drank more to keep up their strength, but the Hobbits had a breaking point. Their Race did not easily go without much sleep and food, let alone water. That is why sleep was necessary; the conservation of strength and energy was vital in case they ran into more Orcs around the next bend.

As the company traveled on, the tunnel became higher so the tall Gondorian could walk at his full height, no longer stooped. But then the tunnel seemed the turn into a sort of tube. Boromir slowed down his hurried pace to look more closely at the walls. It seemed to the Man that it was no Orc that made this tunnel; in fact, it did not bare the mark of any intelligent creature. The fair-haired warrior then caressed his rough hand against the stone of the walls and smiled.

"What is you doing, Mister Boromir?" Merry curiously asked.

"Do you smell that?" the Man responded.

The Hobbits shook their heads before breaking into big grins. "We only smell you, you great giant," Pippin sniggered.

The Steward's eldest son allowed a small smile to creep among the whiskers of his beard. "Yes, well, other than me."

Again the Hobbits negatively answered.

"Go on," Boromir insisted. "Put your nose to the stone and smell it."

The Hobbits complied but it was Merry who was the first to voice his opinion. "It has a particular smell to it."

Boromir grinned. "Sulfur," he informed them. The Hobbits raised their eyebrows, uncertain of what his response meant. Holding up the torch it further revealed that the endless tube had an orange hue to it, confirming the Man's beliefs. "This is a lava tube," he tried to explain. "They are natural conduits through which magma travels beneath the surface of a lava flow, expelled by a volcano during an eruption. When the flow stops and the rock has cooled it leaves behind a left a long, cave-like channel. Like this." He waved his arms around him in in a grand fashion.

"What does that mean for us?" Pippin inquired.

"It means we must be near Eregoin," Boromir said, naming a long extinct volcano from the First Age that sat in the Misty Mountains. "It means we must be headed in the right direction!"

Merry and Pippin quietly cheered, glad that their time in these dark caves could be near an end.

* * *

Twenty minutes after sending Legolas back to camp, the rest of the Fellowship joined Aragorn at the mouth of the cavern. The Ranger quickly told everyone what had become of their fellow companions.

"Down there?" Sam asked fearfully.

"The ground is weak from water erosion and could not hold the weight on a Man and two Hobbits," Aragorn responded. But he, upon seeing the dejected looks the two remaining Hobbits gave each other, continued, "Hitherto, do not be discouraged! I feel in my heart that they yet live."

"Truly," Frodo spoke up.

"Yes, Frodo."

"But what if they run into trouble?"

"You forget, young Master Hobbit," the Elven Prince said. "Boromir, the warrior of Gondor, is with them still. And from my inventory of his possessions, the Man still has his sword and dagger. Lost they may be but not vulnerable."

It was Gimli then who spoke, "What do you suggest we do, Aragorn?"

"We cannot follow them into the chasm," Aragorn grimly replied. "We must walk in the direction they seem to have taken and hope that we find an opening from which we may rescue our friends." The Ranger then turned to Legolas. "Could you use you sharp ears to detect the direction they may have taken?"

The Elf nodded and, relieving his back from the burden of his bow and arrows, crept closer to the gaping hole with nothing but a pebble in his hand. He then rested his head near the opening and dropped the pebble within. Subconsciously, everyone leaned forward, trying to hear the echo of the small stone reaching the bottom of the cavern. And, to everyone's dismay, several long seconds passed before a quiet _plink_ was overheard, indicating that the hole was far deeper than any of them imagined. Legolas leaned closer - trying to judge what no one else could, and began whispering a few words in Elfish. After a minute more the Elf pattered back toward the rest of the company and informed them, "From what I was able to hear, the cave below runs East and West." He indicated the direction with his hands, East near the Misty Mountains and West about the river. "I can only assume, and the Earth agrees, that they traveled East, away from the river and toward the mountains."

"Are you certain?" the Ranger asked worriedly.

"On my honor," came the reply.

"Then we shall head East," Aragorn announced. "Come, we have a Man and some Hobbits to retrieve!" And with that the Fellowship set off the find Boromir, Merry and Pippin.

* * *

Boromir stopped and listened. The distinct sound of dripping water caught his attention. Urging the Hobbits along side him they hurried down the lava tube towards a bypass that had been revealed by the torch's light. After a few more paces, the company entered an enormous cavern. The light that the Man held high above his head could not even expose the true size of the cave. Stalactites and stalagmites littered all the surfaces of the cavern, making a single misstep perilous. As for the sound of water, there was a large pool on the right side of the cavern, some thirty meters from the three companions. It shimmered and lapped the walls of the cave. The water reflected a small hole in the roof of the cavern that gave off a little sunlight. Daylight! The promise of natural light drew Pippin, Merry, and Boromir toward the beautiful sight like moths to a flame. With great care, they traveled toward the pool.

Boromir was the first the reach the water's edge. He cautiously bent over and placed a finger into the cool liquid. He then sampled the water. "The water is not toxic," he informed the Hobbits. "It should be safe to drink."

Greedily, Merry and Pippin rushed forward and took handfuls of water and drank hungrily. Boromir followed his friends' example and gulped the liquid in order to parch his thirst. After he finished he unlatched his empty water skin from his belt and preceded the fill it.

The Captain-General then stood up and looked around the cavern once more. "We ought to rest here while we can. Respite and fresh water will do us some good before we try to find another way out of this maze." Next the Man nodded toward a tightly clustered group of stalagmites not far from the pool's edge. "We shall relax there. The stone will offer us coverage and hide our light from the Enemy." Merry and Pippin readily complied. Boromir smiled wistfully and trailed behind the anxious Hobbits. Once they arrived at their destination, the veteran soldier placed the torch in a wedge between two rocks before settling down next his friends.

"Mister Boromir, you should sleep first," Merry said. "We noticed that each time we rested that would not partake in our relaxation. You must be tired. Pippin and I can watch over you, and later you can watch over us." Pippin nodded in agreement.

Boromir grinned and fondly ruffled each Hobbit's head. "Thank you, little ones. I am indeed tired. Here, take my sword." He reached for his weapon and handed it to Pippin. "And keep my dagger so you may not be unprotected should Orcs come our way." Then the Man frowned grimly and commanded, "If you do hear any sort of suspicious noise, wake me immediately. If not, wake me in an hour's time nonetheless. For we should not tarry in one place too long."

"Of course, Mister Boromir," was Pippin's response. "Now rest."

Boromir obeyed and settled back into a comfortable position before instantly falling fast asleep.

Silence enclosed the two Hobbits, for they feared to make any noise. Each one scooted closer to the torch and the sleeping Man in order to partake in comfort and heat, so much of which the cavern lacked. Pippin weighed the heavy sword in his hand; he was astonished that Boromir could carry such a hefty weapon so easily. But then again, the Man was large and strong, so much more than a lowly Hobbit. Merry placed his borrowed dagger on his lap before crossing his arms and gazing around the cave. Both hobbits became very relaxed and comforted by the heavy breathing of the warrior beside them. They, admittedly, were very thankful that the Man did not snore like Gimli because surely the Enemy would be able to hear them from leagues away if that were the case.

Suddenly, there was a rumbling sound that echoed throughout the cave. Merry looked around in alarm while placing his hand on the hilt of the dagger. Pippin smiled sheepishly before whispering toward his stomach, "Traitor."

Merry relaxed once more and smirked. "You are not the only hungry one, Pip. I am as hungry as you, though not as vocal." The fair-haired Hobbit then chuckled. "I first thought that some kind of monster resided in the cave and we would need to wake Boromir from his slumber."

Pippin guffawed. "I _am_ a monster when it comes to food. You should know that, my dear cousin. For how many times have I eaten your share of rations when you were not looking?"

"Oh, Pip, I know you all too well."

"Then you should watch more closely when you eat," Pippin reprimanded.

"I suppose so."

As the repartee ended silence overcame the company for a second time. Much later, the Hobbits awoke Boromir and told him that they had heard nothing but rumbling stomachs while he slept. The Gondorian took this news well and allowed his two friends to rest for some time before they began their journey again. Sympathetic, Boromir allowed the Hobbits to use him as a pillow for he noticed how they shivered in the cold, damp cave. The Man looked up and tried to spot the small hole of light in the roof but could not find one. He reasoned that it must be nighttime, but this revelation made him nervous. They had been lost for so long, at least one day had passed now, or perhaps longer, the soldier of Gondor could not rightfully tell.

Significant time later, Boromir woke Merry and Pippin and told them that they had better drink some more water from the pool before leaving. After that, the three companions made their way across the large cavern, trying to find a different cave. Boromir's sharp eyes spotted the shadowed entrance of another tunnel hidden behind a group of outcropping boulders. "Let us go this way," he urged.

Though he would never admit it to his little friends, Boromir was growing weak and fatigued. The little water wasn't enough to help him keep his vigor. He needed food. This revealing fact made the veteran soldier very upset. If he, a strong Captain-General of Gondor, was weakening then surely the two little Hobbits were far weaker. Their Race was a soft one, unbothered by war and hardship, let alone hunger. The darkness was getting to them, leaching them of all strength. They needed to escape as soon as possible.

But all musing were interrupted when Boromir abruptly stopped and his two companions bumped into him from behind.

"Watch it!" Merry called.

All the while Pippin asked, "Why did we stop?"

The warrior held up his hand as a signal for immediate quiet. And, gripping the pommel of his sword tightly, inched toward a bend in the tunnel. He peeked around it but quickly withdrew, mumbling hushed curses under his breath. The two Hobbits eyed each other nervously, noting the possible seriousness of the situation they might have walked into. Merry tapped the Man's arm and quietly demanded an explanation.

"Orcs," came the gruff reply.

"Where?"

Boromir raised an eyebrow. "Do you truly want to know?"

"Not really."

Pippin looked grim and clutched his cousin's forearm. "Do you hear that?" he whispered urgently.

The Man inhaled sharply. The sound of heavy boots and metal armor reached the ears of the company. But the sound wasn't coming before them, it approached from behind them as well.

"By the Valar!" Merry groaned. "Why us?"

Boromir's heart raced. An assault from the front and back was not something any of them could handle, especially in their weakened state. Then, coming to a horrible conclusion, he said, "We have no other choice but to fight." He calmly gripped his broad sword with both hands. "One way or the other we must fight." Boromir drew a deep breath before too looking back down the bend in front of them. "This is probably the best way out. It seems to be a manageable Orc pack."

In a sudden surge of courage, Merry raised the Man's dagger. "Then we shall fight. We are with you, Mister Boromir." Pippin nodded and voiced his agreement.

The Gondorian sternly smiled before saying, "I would be honored to fight with you, Masters Meriadoc and Peregrin."

The noise behind the company grew closer and closer. Boromir nodded at his little companions and prepared to attack. "Stay close."

It was then that Pippin repeated some words Boromir spoke hours and hours before, "For together, we are strong."

The Man grinned and then all three dashed around the corner. Boromir quickly dispatched two Orcs. Merry stabbed at knees and slashed at ankles with the Man's tiny dagger, crippling the monsters of Mordor so Boromir could more easily kill them. Pippin also fought bravely. He swung the fiery torch at dark heads, knocking some senseless or badly burning others. Boromir ducked, parried, and struck each Orc that stood in his way. Luckily, the tunnel wasn't big enough for the Orcs to assault them on all sides. A true blessing that the fine fighters had only to worry about what was in front of them, at least, until the other servants of Sauron came upon them from behind.

Boromir decapitated another Orc and went on to the next. The numbers before him were slowly diminishing. He frequently checked on the two Hobbits to see how they were faring against the Enemy; thankfully they seemed to handling themselves well. The solider of Gondor was now breathing heavily for his strength was running low. Unexpectedly, he heard Merry shout something about finding a passageway. Boromir backed toward his little companions after killing three more Orcs. He glanced at where the fair-haired Hobbit was pointing and commanded, "Retreat down the tunnel to safety. I shall follow."

The Hobbits quickly followed the order while Boromir turned to fight an Orc that appeared in his line of vision. The beast slashed out but the warrior defended himself. Attack after attack tried to breach the Gondorian's defenses. The Man struggled to defend the unusually skilled Orc but his vigor waxed and waned. In one last burst of strength Boromir stepped away from an oncoming strike and hit the monster of Mordor on the face with the hilt of his sword and swiftly sliced its broad edge across the neck. The Orc was dead before it hit the ground. Franticly looking around him, the Man spotted the Hobbits' retreating down a side passageway and, taking a deep breath, followed them.

"Argh!" Boromir cried out and pitched against the wall in front of him when something struck his left shoulder. He looked back in surprise; the long black handle of a throwing knife was sticking out of his upper back. Funnily enough, there was no pain at first, only pressure. But then it began to burn. He had never been stabbed like this before; the pain had never been this intense. Tears sprang to the Man's eyes. His brain swirled with pain, crippling him. However, the sound of metal on rock quickly pulled Boromir out of his pain induced dream state. And, turning his attention back to the battle, the soldier of Gondor forgot the pain and gutted the Orc directly behind him.

"Boromir!"

He looked up and saw Pippin frantically waving at him. The Gondorian nodded and, pushing himself off of the wall, ran toward his two little companions. But he didn't stop when he reached them, he only paused a moment before scooping them up in his arms and continued running toward safety. Boromir ignored the pain radiating from his shoulder and persistently pressed onward. The clatter of battle died away – meaning that the Orcs had given up pursuit or simply didn't have enough numbers to follow. He didn't know how long he ran with the Hobbits in his arms. But near the end of his last remaining strength the warrior was taking fast, shallow breaths while the pain in his shoulder multiplied. Precipitously, the Man could run no further. His legs and lungs were on fire. Boromir slowed until he could carefully lower Merry and Pippin to the floor of the tunnel. He then leaned against a wall of stone, closed his eyes, and eagerly gasped for air.

"Boromir, are you alright?"

The Gondorian didn't answer. His left arm was numb. His shoulder was burning. His heart was beating fast. His forehead was beading with sweat. And, with a mighty groan, the veteran solider slid to the ground. The only thing on his addled mind was that he had to get the Hobbits out of this maze of caves; he had to find the Fellowship. However, his pain induced mind allowed a faint noise to enter his consciousness. Faint but alarming.

"Mister Boromir, please get up! We must continue."

"He's injured, Pip!"

Something poked his left shoulder. A strangled yelp emitted his throat before he could control himself.

"Wake up! BOROMIR!"

The Man's eyes sluggishly opened. Merry's face swam into his vision. "Boromir, how do you fare? Speak."

Boromir swallowed hard. "Nothing but a souvenir from one of the Orcs."

"You are in pain," Pippin stated. He touched the hilt of the throwing knife.

"Do not touch it," Boromir hissed, forcefully batting away the curious hand.

"We should removed it," Merry whispered.

"No, that will only cause bleeding," the Captain-General of Minas Tirith mumbled. "And we have nothing to bandage the wound properly." Boromir struggled to stand. "We have to continue moving. An exit to this dismal place must be close at hand."

"First drink," Merry encouraged, holding out the water skin for him to drink from. "You need strength."

Obeying, Boromir gulped several mouthfuls of cool water. He then picked up his sword from where he dropped it when he fell. And, using it like a walking stick, said, "We go!"

Dutifully, the two Hobbits trailed behind their hurt friend. But, after several minutes of walking, Boromir stumbled. Merry and Pippin caught the Man and helped him back up before continuing again. This happened several more times over the next hour until the Man could walk no more.

Boromir did not look well to the Hobbits. His hair was completely slick with sweat and he was pale and shivering. "How do you feel, Mister Boromir?" Merry asked.

After a moment of heavy breathing the Steward's eldest son answered, "My shoulder is on fire and my arm is numb. I am having much trouble breathing and I am getting a fever." He heaved a few more times, trying to catch his breath. "I fear I have been poisoned."

Pippin gasped, his eyes slightly watering.

Merry nodded solemnly. "What would you have us do?"

"I think you need to remove the dagger," came the weak reply. "We do not have the supplies to treat such a wound but we can wash it out with water and bind it with strips of my cloak."

The Hobbit quickly hurried to comply. Merry gripped the black knife's hilt and, wincing when Boromir groaned, pulled it from the torn flesh. Pippin then quickly poured the remaining drinking water on the injury cleaning any poison that had yet to enter the Man's blood steam. A ripping sound echoed down the tunnel as Merry made some bandages. With the minimal light given from the slowly dying torch they slowly and carefully wrapped Boromir's shoulder with the strips of cloak. Suddenly, with one final gasp of pain, the Gondorian's eyes rolled into the back of his head and slumped unconscious against the wall he was resting.

Little hands quickly found their way to the warrior's throat and small mouths signed in relief when they found a steady, but weak, pulse.

"We need to get out of here. Boromir needs a healer. He needs Strider," Pippin cried worriedly.

"But we cannot carry him," Merry indicated. "He is too heavy. Remember, Pip, you couldn't even move his legs off me when we first fell."

"Maybe we can find a way out of the caves."

"But then what?"

"Find help, of course!"

"Alright," Merry sighed. "I will go explore the tunnel before us and pray to the Valar that luck will come upon us at last."

"Take the torch and the dagger," Pippin said, handing his cousin the two objects. "I will stay with Boromir and use this Orc knife if we are attacked." His voice wavered slightly.

"Stay safe, Pip."

"You too, Merry. You too."

"Fear not, I shall return shortly." And with that the fair-haired Hobbit traveled off into the darkness before him, leaving his two friends behind as he searched for help.

* * *

Night overcame the roaming Fellowship. They had yet to see a single any sign of their three missing companions. Morale was low and Aragorn had forced them to stop their search for they needed food and rest.

Frodo and Sam deeply feared for their fellow Kin. They barely ate the supper that was handed to them. Pippin never fared well in caves; Merry was no different, although he didn't readily admit it. The two Hobbits also knew that Merry and Pippin were not soldiers like Boromir. If they had run into the Evil that dwells in the dark they could only pray that the Man of Gondor would serve as a protector.

But they were not the only ones who were scared for Boromir, Merry, and Pippin. Legolas was very sympathetic for what might be happening down in those caves far below. It was notoriously known that Elves hated caves. Darkness could suck the life force form an Elf's inner light. The Elven Prince could only hope that his companions stayed strong and did not allow the shadows to steal them away from the rest of the Fellowship.

Gimli also feared for the Man and Hobbits, but not for the same reasons as the Elf. As a Dwarf, he knew the perils that one had to fight in the dark: Orcs, Goblins, foul creatures from the Deep. The stout warrior knew Boromir was armed and would never let anything happen to the little ones, but he could only have faith that they would remain unharmed.

Aragorn, the strong leader that he was, walked around camp with an air of confidence. He constantly commented on the resourcefulness of Boromir and the bravery and daring of Merry and Pippin. The raven-haired Ranger's sureness of the missing company's safety helped ease the company before they needed to continue the search tomorrow at first light.

Gandalf wandered noiselessly around the camp while everyone else finally went to sleep. Standing guard, the Wizard felt a shift in the air. A fell feeling crept through his chest and Gandalf instantly knew something had befallen one of the lost companions. Sighing, he sat down on the edge of camp and rested his weary head on the shaft of his staff. He would have to inform Aragorn of this feeling in the morning and tell him to prepare for the worst once they found Merry, Pippin, and Boromir.

* * *

The foul shadows enveloped Pippin and the injured Boromir in a suffocating black. When, not some twenty minutes after Merry's departure, the Man's breathing became more strained, Pippin huddled next to him and whispered comforting words into his ears. And for a time this worked, but not for long. The Gondorian was getting worse and Pippin knew he would not last much longer without help.

Admittedly, Pippin had never been more scared in his life. He was even more scared than when he woke up after his first night of drinking and could not remember a single thing that happened. He was even more scared than when Farmer Maggot caught him for stealing carrots and was attacked by one of his big dogs. He was even more scared than when he nearly drowned at the tender age of ten. He was even more scared than when the Nine were chasing him and his fellow Kin all the way from Bree. Admittedly, Pippin had never been more scared in his life.

A distant echo sent ribbons of fear through his chest, squeezing his heart until he thought it would burst. The Hobbit gripped the knife so tight he thought he would cut himself and join the poisoned, dying Boromir. Sobbing quietly Pippin crawled onto the Man's legs and curled up on his lap. With his free hand the young Hobbit took one of Boromir's bigger, rougher hands and hugged it to his cheek, allowing the callouses to catch the salty tears that escaped his eyes.

Pippin was so tired; he was physically exhausted from walking for leagues without any nourishment, and he was emotionally weary from all the mental strains placed upon him. The Hobbit wanted to sleep, to escape all his earthly worries and dream of happier times back home in the Shire. Eventually, he could no longer keep his eyes open and whispering, "Please, Boromir, don't leave me," Pippin fell asleep.

When he awoke Pippin did not know for how long he had succumbed to the darkness. All he knew was that noises were echoing down the tunnel, becoming louder and louder with each passing seconds. Fearful that the Orcs had found them Pippin scrambled to stand defensively over his wounded friend. His hand grew sweaty with anxiety, making his grip on the Orc knife slick. Pippin wanted to run but duty held him next to his fallen companion. So many times had Boromir protected him and Merry in these caves it was now his turn to be the protector. Thus, he stood, ready to take on any who posed a threat while he noiselessly mouthed Boromir's words that had previously given him courage and hope.

"For together, we are strong."

He repeated the sentence endlessly.

"For together, we are strong."

Again and again.

"_For together, we are strong_."

But it was no Orc that barreled toward Pippin, it was Merry. All fears and concerns were forgotten when the bloodied, poisoned knife dropped from limp fingers; only relief coursed through the small body. The light of Merry's torch lit up his face, revealing the biggest grin ever to cover his cousin's visage. Each ran into the other's awaiting arms; hugs, smiles, and tears were exchanged.

"I found a way out," Merry was able to gasp out between tears of joy. "We're free."

"Oh, Merry," was all Pippin could reply.

The fair-haired Hobbit then turned to look down at the slumped Boromir. Merry held the torch higher and looked at the Man. He didn't like what he saw. Boromir had gotten paler. His breathing was barely audible. Sweat fell like waterfalls off the sick warrior's brow. He looked moments away from death.

Merry gulped. "Mister Boromir?"

"We need to get him out of this darkness," Pippin said. "How far away is the exit?"

"Too far."

"We have to try wake him and help him out of these caves."

Merry nodded. "Boromir. Hello, Mister Boromir! We need to go. You have to get up and try to walk with us."

The urgency seemed to call the Man of Gondor from his infinite slumber. He stirred slightly before lying still once more.

Renewed with a great purpose the Hobbits continued to try and wake the injured warrior. After a few more minutes, Boromir awakened. He seemed confused about where he was and who he was with, but after several more minutes the Hobbits convinced him to walk with them. The three companions began to slowly trek towards the exit Merry described.

"It was daytime when I found it, Mister Boromir," Merry said. "There were birds in the trees and I heard them singing. Do you like hearing bird-song? I do. It reminds me of home, of the Shire..."

It was like this for some time. Each Hobbit assisted a near comatose Man through the caves, aided but markings Merry had carved into the stone. Merry and Pippin incessantly talked to the Steward's eldest son. They told him stories of home. They sang him drinking songs. They asked him questions that he was never able to answer. It was a slow process.

Boromir was trying to help but he was fading fast. The Orc poison had entered the Man's blood stream quickly and had been assisted by the prolonged amount of time the knife was in the wound. It also hadn't helped when Boromir had run nearly to exhaustion. His blood pumped fast, spreading the poison. He was too weak to effectively fight off its effects. The Hobbits refused to let their sick friend have the luxury of rest. They refused to lose him, not after everything they had gone through together.

But everything they did just wasn't enough. In the end, Boromir collapsed and never got back up.

* * *

It wasn't too long after they had packed up camp for the morning when Legolas first heard the screams. The Wind whipped the sounds around him making the origin indistinguishable. Aragorn had noticed the Elf's stiffened stance and made a comment about it.

"I hear something…" Legolas told the Fellowship. "Screams."

The Fellowship murmured amongst themselves.

"Where?" Gandalf questioned.

Legolas looked to and fro. "I cannot tell from where they originate but I detect no threat." He ran forward a short distance, the company not far behind. "The Trees cry with someone. They are sad, so sad." He turned to look at Aragorn. "Something terrible has happened."

It was then that the exiled King remembered the words that the Wizard told him after dawn – "Last night there was a shift in the air. I fear for our missing companions." Dread seized him. And, without alerting the others of his plight, took off running into the woods to search for the source of the Trees' woes.

The Elf was not far behind his friend, yelling the directions the Trees gave to him. Eventually they slowed and, ignoring the sounds of the remaining Fellowship trying to catch up, listened to the Wind. It was then that they heard it. The most agonizing, grief-filled screams they had ever heard. Then, walking slowly and deliberately, Aragorn and Legolas walked several hundred meters before stopping in front of a cluster of Trees.

"They weep," the Elven prince gasped, clenching a slender hand over his heart. Suddenly, Legolas tilted his head to the right in the most peculiar manner. Without a word he circled the Trees before kneeling next to one of the bases. With one grand motion, the Elf swept away some foliage to reveal the opening of a small cave. And, echoing from within, the two friends could hear screams and sobs. Their lost friends!

Aragorn cupped his hands before mouth and shouted into the cave. "Pippin! Merry! Boromir! Are you there?"

The cries stopped for moment and a tiny voice called in hesitant reply. "Strider?"

"Little ones?"

"STRIDER!"

Aragorn turned to Legolas. "Wait here and inform the others." Then, quickly and silently, he slipped into the cave while shouting, "I am coming." The tunnel was narrow and low and dark, very dark. Far ahead he spotted a small pinprick of light and hushed voices. Rushing forward he eventually came upon the two frantic Hobbits and the still, slumped form of Boromir.

"Merry? Pippin?" Aragorn called to them. Almost immediately two small forms rushed into his open arms. Looking passed their huddled forms the Ranger nodded toward his collapsed Kin and asked fearfully, "What has befallen Boromir?"

"He is injured. Poisoned," Pippin explained through sniffles and sobs.

"Where?"

"His left shoulder."

"For how long?"

"Too long."

Deliberately, Aragorn eased the Hobbits away from the comforting embrace and looked at them in the dying torch's light. "Can you make it to the exit?"

They nodded.

"Good," the Ranger responded. "Make your way out of these caves. Soon you will find the rest of the Fellowship just outside."

Merry and Pippin obeyed the Man's order and quickly stumbled out of sight. Blocking out the patter of retreating feet, Aragorn fixed his gaze on the Gondorian. Quickly and purposely, the Ranger moved with a healer's grace while examining the torn flesh beneath a sloppily made bandage. The skin was blackened with small green spider-webbed tendrils snaking away from the open wound. Leaning forward he sniffed the injury. It smelled sickly sweet with an overwhelming scent of evergreens. "Hemlock," Aragorn whispered to himself, instantly identifying the poison. Hemlock was very common and very dangerous. It could be easily cured if treated early enough, but Boromir must have been poisoned for hours. The Steward's son was in critical condition and the Ranger could not rightfully say how easy it would be to treat such an old wound.

Sighing, Aragorn felt the Man's sweaty, feverish brow before bending down and lifting Boromir into his toned arms. Struggling slightly underneath the injured warrior's weight, the Ranger hurried toward the distant light emitted from the cave's exit. Soon enough he emerged and the burden in his arms was lifted away by Gimli. The Dwarf swiftly brought Boromir over to a bundle of blankets and cloaks next to a freshly roaring fire. Ignoring the concerned looks thrown his way, Aragorn grabbed his pack of medicines and bandages that were handed to him by Legolas.

"Gimli, put him on his stomach," the Man ordered as he knelt beside the hurt Captain-General. "And get those clothes off his back."

Boromir was quickly stripped. In the natural sunshine, unlike the dimmed torch's light, Aragorn could clearly see that the wound was far worse than he first thought. Cursing to himself, he rummaged through his pack before yelling over his shoulder, "Someone boil water!" Without waiting for a response Aragorn turned back toward the Dwarf and asked, "Have you drunken all of your liquor you have hidden?"

Gimli huffed a reply before starting for his pack. A few moments later he handed Aragorn a water skin full of strong smelling ale. Carelessly, the Ranger poured the Dwarf's entire alcohol supply onto Boromir's left shoulder. In his unconscious state the injured Man emitted the most upsetting whimper of pain while his large fingers blindly grappled with the blankets underneath him. But, paying the wounded warrior no mind, Aragorn proceeded to clear away the strong liquid before applying a generous amount salve, made from the Athelas weed, over the laceration.

From the other side of camp Merry and Pippin fearfully watched the Ranger's every move. Each clung to the other as if their life, not only Boromir's, was in peril. Salty tears fell from Pippin's eyes while Merry's eyes dangerous drooped from his exhaustion. Gandalf knelt next to the two Hobbits and offered them some food, which they eagerly accepted. Several minutes later, after they finished eating, the old Wizard questioned, "How are you feeling? Are either of you injured?"

"Gandalf, we are fine," Merry replied. "How is Mister Boromir?"

"His life hangs in the balance," Aragorn answered. He stood from his kneeling position next to the recently stitched and bandaged Boromir while wiping his hands on his trousers. "But I have faith that he will survive if he pulls through the night."

"Can you tell us what transpired in the caves?" Frodo inquired.

Sam interrupted, "Not now, Mister Frodo. Can't you see they're tired?"

"Sam is right. Merry, Pippin, why don't you sleep and we will talk to you later when you awaken," Gandalf told the two cousins.

The two Hobbits barely had time to agree before they were fast asleep. The rest of the Fellowship looked at their slumbering companions, sympathetic with their plights. Quietly they went about their business, nervously eyeing their fallen companion that Aragorn diligently attended. And so the Fellowship patiently waited, for that was all they could do.

* * *

The sun had sunk below the Western horizon, plunging the hodgepodge of traveling companions into gloom. Neither the Hobbits nor the Man had risen from their sleeping states. Aragorn, the ever-faithful healer, had stood watch over Boromir, constantly redressing the wound and checking for infection. Gandalf and Gimli had retreated away from the campfire to share some pipe weed. A half-hour before Legolas had excused himself to do another perimeter check. Frodo had settled down for a nap while Sam cleaned the supper dishes.

But it was then, in the night's suffocating darkness, when Boromir finally awoke. The Man was feverish and disorientated. Aragorn noticed that the Gondorian was moving so he quickly went over the Man and tired to ease his awakening with calming words. However, Boromir didn't seem to understand where he was; all the Man knew was that he was encased in darkness, injured, and surrounded by a foreign presence. Lashing out, Boromir blindly grabbed the Ranger by the throat and squeezed tightly. Taken by surprise, Aragorn was rendered helpless under the warrior's strong grip. The others' attention, with exception of Merry and Pippin who were still sleeping, were quickly drawn to the commotion on the far side of camp.

"Where have you taken the little ones, filthy Orc," Boromir suddenly snarled at Aragorn.

But it was Gandalf who answered the accusation, not Aragorn. "Boromir, you are among friends. Please release Aragorn."

Realizing that he and Aragorn were not alone, the Gondorian snatched a small hunting knife from the Ranger's belt. And, holding it in front of him as a means of defense, he announced loudly, "Stand back! Where have you taken my friends?" He looked around wildly, calling, "Merry? Pippin?"

Upon hearing their names, the two Hobbits were quickly aroused from their slumbers. And, upon seeing the situation before them, hastily scrambled across camp the help the wounded warrior.

"Mister Boromir, you need to rest," Pippin told the Man.

"Hush, Pippin," Boromir scolded. "We are surrounded by Orcs. Quickly, get behind me."

"But Mister Boromir," Merry chimed in, "We made it out of the caves. There are no Orcs, only the Fellowship."

The Man blinked feverishly. "But it is so dark."

"It is nighttime," Pippin explained.

Gradually moving forward, Merry and Pippin reached out to assist their friend. Merry gently removed the hunting knife from Boromir's grip and Pippin softly pried his fingers from Aragorn's throat. Quietly they talked to the Man, comforting him and assuring him that they were safe and in the helpful hands of the Fellowship. Eventually, Boromir complied. He became less aggressive and allowed Aragorn, who he no longer believed to be a servant of Sauron, to feed him some Athelas tea to reduce his fierce fever. And, finally, after several more minutes, the Steward's eldest son settled back down into a restless sleep.

* * *

The next morning Boromir again slowly stirred. His body was heavy and moved sluggishly from all the Athelas medicine Aragorn had given him. Pippin, who had just finished eating breakfast, was the first to notice his movement and called out to the rest of the company. "Boromir is waking!"

The veteran solider tried to open his heavily lidded eyes. He failed several times before he could do so properly. His fever-filled gaze were clouded and out of focus. Boromir opened and closed his mouth a few times trying to form words, but they never came.

"Drink," Aragorn told the Man gently. He placed a big hand on the back of the fair-haired warrior's head to support him while he sipped from a small bowl filled with cool water.

When he was done the Ranger lowered Boromir so his head once again rested on the thick cloak beneath his crown.

"My thanks," the Gondorian croaked before falling back asleep.

"He seems better," Sam commented.

"He still is far from regaining his full strength. The Orc poison was very strong and was in his system for far too long." Aragorn frowned at this, disturbed by the strange potency of the deadly drug in his fellow Man's blood stream.

"Boromir is a mighty warrior!" Gimli exclaimed. "I would have been very surprised if something as simple as poison would take him from us."

"Yes, he is very valiant," Pippin murmured.

Frodo turned when he heard this comment and spoke up, saying, "What happened in those caves? Will you tell us?"

Merry and Pippin eyed each other. Pippin shrugged. "I suppose. We are not going anywhere for some time are we, Strider?"

"No, we are not, little one," Aragorn responded.

"Very well," Merry said. "We may as well sit down. It is a long story."

All members of the Fellowship inched closer to the two Hobbits. Gandalf settled himself on a near by log while the rest of the companions sat on the ground or on bedrolls.

It was Pippin who began the tale. "Well, I guess you could say it started when we went to the river to wash the breakfast dishes…"

"That _is_ when it started, Pip," Merry interrupted, rolling his eyes dramatically.

A few of the seated people chuckled at the Hobbit's antics but Pippin ignored the comment. "…Mister Boromir appeared and told us that we had better make back to camp soon because we had a long way to travel. When he neared the river Merry and I tried to give him a bath because he smelled." Pippin crinkled his nose dramatically. "It was then he took off, running away from us. We eventually caught up with him but he tripped and we all slammed onto the ground. The Earth gave way and we fell down a hole into some sort of cavern." Legolas nodded, guessing as much when he and Aragorn had search the area by the river. "Anyway, Merry and I were mostly unhurt by the fall-"

"Mostly?" Gimli inquired.

"Boromir landed on me," Merry replied.

Frodo winced, eyeing the huge build of the ill Man near the fire.

Merry then continued where his cousin left off. "I was fine but Boromir was very heavy. He was unconscious for a while but Pippin woke him up before getting him off me. After that we felt around and found a tunnel. We went down it for several hours in the suffocating darkness. It was then that we ran into some Orcs. Boromir bravely fought them. Luckily, they were few and we able to escape the situation. The Orcs had a torch so we were able to travel faster when we were aided by light. We must have walked for several more hours after that. There was so much walking!" Merry complained, massaging his oversized feet. "Well, we ultimately stumbled upon a huge cavern that had a lovely pool of water. We drank and rested for a few hours before continuing on again."

"Yes," Pippin cut in. "It was after that we ran into _more_ Orcs. We were going to try and go back the way we came but we heard the noises of Orcs coming but behind us in the tunnel too. Instead of being surrounded, Mister Boromir said that he had to fight the Orcs in front of us. Mister Boromir had his sword of course. He had given Merry his dagger and I had the torch. You should have seen us! We fought along side Mister Boromir against those foul creatures." Pippin theatrically made motions with his arms, playfully reenacted a fight scene. "Anyway, Merry found a passageway leading away from the battle. Mister Boromir told us to flee down it and he would follow. We obeyed. Boromir finally retreated with us. He carried Merry and I so we could escape faster. He must have carried us for a good hour, right Merry?"

"Or more," the fair-haired Hobbit said. "After a while he set us down. It was then we noticed that he had an Orc knife sticking out of his back. He told us not to remove it because then it would bleed more. So we didn't. We walked for a long time after that until Boromir collapsed. He said that he thought he was poisoned. It was then that we removed the knife and tried to clean and bandage the wound. He wasn't very good after that. He went to sleep and we could not raise him. We decided that he needed help so I went off to find an exit to the maze of caves while Pippin stayed with Boromir. I found the entrance you can through, Aragorn. I went back and got Pippin and Boromir. We were able to wake Mister Boromir again and he walked with us for some time before he fell for a final time. We could not arouse him after that. But then we heard you, Aragorn." The Ranger nodded. "Well, I guess you know what happened after that."

"A truly miraculous tale, young Masters," Legolas commented.

"Yes," Aragorn agreed. "I am astonished that Boromir was able to travel so far for so long while suffering from the Orc's poison."

Merry said, "He is very strong."

Gimli huffed. "We have very little doubt of his aptitude, lads."

"To that, I must agreed with the Dwarf," Legolas spoke.

After that, the company of nine rested about the small clearing where they were camped. While waiting for the Gondorian soldier to wake again before he redressed his wound, Aragorn began to take inventory of the Fellowship's food and supplies. Gimli took to sharpening his axe on a small wet stone he carried in his pack. Legolas perched himself in a Tree, humming a sweet Elvish melody as he plucked some fresh buds from the branches. Frodo and Sam took to playing a word game to pass the time - creating and answering riddles for fun. Merry and Pippin crawled over the their fallen friend and lay with him, offering Boromir comfort and warmth while he recovered. As for Gandalf, the Wizard simply rested on the same log, puffing colorful smoke rings, and watching the company go about their menial tasks.

Hours flew by. The sun eventually sank in the horizon, giving the moon and stars command of the skies. The Fellowship ate a hardy dinner before, one-by-one, falling asleep. Before eating, Aragorn had informed the group that they would begin traveling tomorrow whether or not Boromir was awake. And, if needed, they could place the Steward's eldest son on Bill's, their pony's, back to ensure hasty travel.

Looking around the camp, Frodo watched his sleeping companions. Only he and Aragorn were still awake - the exiled King having volunteered to take the first watch. The night was silent, save for the occasional wild animal and noisy cricket. But then, suddenly, Bill whinnied. Unaccountably, the raven-haired Hobbit felt a ripple of uneasiness flash through his body all the way down to his hairy toes. The Trees seemed to sway in warning of some approaching Evil.

"Leave Bill be," Frodo heard himself say. "He'll be alright."

But the newly awakened Sam did not listen to his master's words. Instead, he rushed into the shadows to calm his Bill.

"Come back Sam," the Wizard called, striding behind the sandy-haired Hobbit. There was no mistaking the note of urgency that carried in Gandalf's voice. He seemed unsettled.

By this point, the whole of the Fellowship was roused. Marry heard a gasp behind him and turned to look at his frightened cousin and confused warrior before Bill let out another piercing whinny. The pony then jerked his head out of Sam's calming hands. Fear twisted in Merry's gut. The whinny had been nigh unto a scream. "Get back here, Sam!" he cried. And he wasn't the only person to do so.

The blonde Hobbit stumbled back a pace, too startled to react quickly. At the blink of an eye, Aragorn was by Sam's side offering help. Bill neighed again and nearly reared off the ground despite the Ranger's steady hold on his restraints. The, finally abandoning his hold, Aragorn reached out and seized the stunned Hobbit before the stamping hoofs could trample him.

Then, all of a sudden, a naked, black blade flashed from out of the shadows, slicing at the Man. Aragorn threw himself backwards and toppled over, clapping one of his hands to his neck as he fell. Sam shrieked and turned to run, but no sooner had the sword struck than a long arm flung itself out of the surrounding darkness, attempting to drag the sandy-haired Hobbit out of sight. Fortunately, it missed and Sam escaped back toward the Fellowship, unscathed.

"Sam!" Frodo screamed. His hand groped for Sting but he couldn't seem to locate the glowing blue blade in the dark.

Aragorn's head hit the ground with a terrible jolt. Legolas and Gimli scrambled to their feet as quickly as they could, drawing their weapons and they went. The duo had barely set on foot toward the edge of the clearing when a large pack of Orcs burst out from the Trees' cover and charged the unsuspecting Fellowship.

Unseen, Merry gave a sharp cry that was quickly muffled. The Elf and Dwarf stopped dead in their tracks. The Wizard stayed his hand, which had begun reaching for his staff. The two Men stayed on the ground, wounded as they both were. The Hobbits froze and stared out into the darkness, searching wildly for any sounds of Merry, but he was hidden from view. Then a deep, foul voice spoke.

"Don't move, filth. Or I'll break its neck."

* * *

Every heart in the clearing was beating a rapid staccato against its breast. Pippin wildly looked around for his lost cousin. In fact, he nearly leapt to his hairy feet to begin a search for him before common sense overrode his panic. The youngest Hobbit took a moment to realize someone was lightly touching his arm. Looking down, Pippin spotted Boromir's large hand. The Gondorian remained motionless, wrapped thoroughly in blankets and his own heavy winter cloak. Though the Man was quite still he couldn't have looked more alert. They gazed at each other before Boromir intently shifted his eyes toward his discarded sword. Understanding the silent message, Pippin slowly shifted his weight until he was close enough to grab the broad weapon. Then he passed it to his prone friend.

"Release our companion!" Gandalf commanded. "You have no right to seize him!"

Laughing erupted from the surrounding Orcs. The leader, a large pale Orc with horrible scars and rotting flesh, emerged from the shadows, holding Merry by the neck. Shaking the Hobbit carelessly before he replied, "This small thing?" He laughed again. "How pitiful! To think," the leader continued, "two of these Halflings and a Man were able to murder so many of my Kin."

"What do you want with us?" Gandalf steadily inquired.

"Death," the pale Orc hissed.

Pandemonium erupted. Frodo, Sam, and Gandalf struggled to regain their footing, with the Hobbits drawing their weapons and the Wizard raising his staff. The servants of Sauron screamed in Black Speech as their leader fell dead to the ground with an Elvish arrow sticking out of his right eye. Merry crashed to the ground next to his captor before he was rushed by a pack of angry Orcs. Meanwhile, Gimli whirled passed his companions as another arrow killed an advancing Orc. Frodo bellowed a war cry and leapt forward to protect the swarmed Merry. Sam hoisted a cooking pot and butchering knife and, shouting inarticulately, launched himself after his master. Legolas took a third arrow and drew back.

Merry howled and let out a shriek of pain as heavy, metal boots trampled him on their way into the clearing. Metal clashing against metal sent the ringing sounds of battle among the Trees. Bill cried out in terror.

Quick as a thought, Gandalf flung his staff into the air before slamming the point into the soft Earth underneath. Upon impact, a harsh, white light flashed throughout the clearing, illuminating all in its path. With the light, a terrible sound echoed, much like a crack of thunder. A blast of pressure washed over the whole company. The force of the pressure blast threw many of the Orcs closest to the Wizard backward; others screeched at the bright light, covering their eyes and stumbling away from its source. The sound of battle faltered a moment while members of the Fellowship regained their balance before returning to full volume.

Pippin's wild shriek rang out in the darkness. "MERRYYY!"

All able Wizard, Elf, Hobbit, and Dwarf continued their attempt to rescue their downed friend in the middle of the Orc pack. Luckily, the Orcs were focused on the immediate threat, not Merry. Metal clashed against metal. Gandalf raised his staff again but before he was able to enact a spell three monsters of Mordor rushed him and he was forced to fight with his sword instead.

An unarmed Pippin made move to rush to the aid of his cousin but was stopped by Boromir. The Man of Gondor had made his way to his feet, shucking off the blankets and cloak. He still looked pale and sickly but he did not act like it. "Stay close, little one," he voiced. "We will go, together!"

Nodding, Pippin grabbed Boromir's sweaty hand and circled the outer boundary of the clearing. Sneaking up behind many Orcs, the Gondorian solider was able to cut them down before monsters of Mordor knew of their presence. Slowly the noises of battle ceased. The last remaining Orcs retreated back into the suffocating darkness. Legolas and Gimli charged after them. It was the Fellowship's only hope to eliminate the Enemy before they could alert Sauron of their existence.

Upon seeing his cousin no longer surrounded by Orcs, Pippin freely rushed to Merry's side. In doing so, he let go of the wounded warrior's hand. However, without the Hobbit's support, Boromir struggled to remain standing on his own. When Pippin finally reached Merry, he fell to his knees and lightly touched the prone body. Merry feebly moved into his cousin's awkward embrace.

"Merry! Merry, are you alright?"

"Hurts, Pip," the injured Hobbit winced.

By examining the injured Hobbit Pippin could see painful bruises blossoming around his neck. Merry also sported several other cuts and bruises on his body from being trampled. Sighing with relief, Pippin looked up in search for the Fellowship's healer – Aragorn. However, upon remembering that the Ranger had been struck down in the beginning of the battle, the Hobbit became worried for his other companions also. His sudden concern made him gaze around the clearing, mentally checking his remaining friends. Frodo and Sam were huddled by the remains of the fire, clutching each other and their bloodied weapons. Aragorn was leaning heavily on Gandalf's shoulder, struggling to right himself from his previous prostrate position. Gimli and Legolas had not yet returned from hunting down the surviving Orcs. Boromir was bent over, both hands on the ground, coughing.

With great alarm, Pippin cried out, "Boromir?"

Upon his bidding, Pippin guided Merry over where the Captain-General of Gondor had finally collapsed. "Boromir!" the Hobbit yelled for a second time. But the Man was not roused by his friend's desperate screams. "Strider! Something's wrong with Boromir."

With the Wizard's assistance, Aragorn approached the three huddled forms, responding, "What has happened? Is he injured?"

"I-I don't know."

The Ranger knelt next to his fellow Man and eased him into a confortable position on the hard ground. Boromir was barely conscious, shaking with fever. Calling to the other Hobbits by the fire, Aragorn instructed them to retrieve his healing bag and some of the discarded blankets. Then, turning back to his patient, he noticed that Boromir's white bandage was red. "He's has reopened his wound," Aragorn informed everyone. "It can be easily fixed. I think he is just exhausted. He is still too weak from the poison." Grabbing a sterile needle and thread, the exiled King began to quickly sew together the torn flesh.

Watching the two men closely, Frodo noticed that Aragorn also seemed pale. "Strider!" he exclaimed. "You are bleeding."

"I am?"

Frodo pointed at the point of origin. "Your neck."

"Oh," the Man reached up and gently touched his exposed skin. "I had quite forgotten. It's only a flesh wound. Look the blood is already drying. It must look worse then it is…"

"But your voice sounds funny," Sam spoke up. "Are you sure that-"

"I am sure," Aragorn interrupted in protest. "The Orc almost took off my head before kicking me in the stomach. For a moment I could not draw breath but I am fine now. Trust me."

"What about you, Merry?" Frodo asked. "Are you alright?"

"I will be fine as soon as I get a warm meal in me," the Hobbit lightly joked before returning his gaze on the feverish Boromir. "He looks cold. Shouldn't we cover him with his cloak, or at least rebuild the fire…"

"No blankets until I have redressed his shoulder," Aragorn instructed. They he glanced up worriedly, "And I think a fire might only draw in more Orcs. We can't risk it. Not now."

The Wizard continued to stand guard while his companions continued to talk. But a slight rustle of leaves drew his attention to the far edge of the clearing. "Legolas and Gimli are returning," Gandalf told the group. "Perhaps they bring good tidings."

Elf and Dwarf emerged from the foliage before jogging over to their huddled companions. As they approached they spotted Aragorn tending to someone. Concerned, Legolas called out, "Has someone been injured?"

"Boromir overexerted himself and reopened his wound," Pippin informed them, ringing his little hands anxiously.

Gimli settled his large axe onto his shoulder before asking, "Will he be alright?"

"Yes," Aragorn replied. "But he needs to rest."

Still maintaining his position as guard, Gandalf glanced back and questioned, "What news of the Enemy?"

"None escaped the axe or bow," Legolas informed the Wizard. "We are safe for the time being."

"Where did they come from?" Sam inquired.

"They tried to flee into the cavern where we found Boromir, Pippin, and Merry. It appears the Orcs followed their trail through the caves…"

"We're sorry," Merry spoke up.

Legolas smiled sadly. "It's alright, little one. There is no way you could have known."

"We should seal the cavern's entrance to prevent more from following us." Gandalf announced. "Gimli, come and show me where this cave is. I will need your help in collapsing the opening."

The Dwarf huffed in response but didn't argue.

Aragorn finally finished rewrapping the Gondorian's shoulder with new, clean linen as the two left the clearing. Instructing three of the Hobbits to cover the Man with as many blankets as they could afford, Aragorn turned his attention toward Merry. The Ranger carefully examined Merry before covering his bruises with a thick salve and dressing some of the more serious cuts.

Much later, after Aragorn had tended to everyone, Gimli and Gandalf returned. Confident that they would not be ambushed again tonight, the Fellowship reluctantly agreed to pack up the camp. They needed to continue on immediately. It was dangerous to remain in one place for so long. They walked in the darkness for a long time. Everyone carried more supplies than normal so the injured Boromir would ride on Bill's back.

By the next morning, when the sun finally rose above the high peeks of the Misty Mountains, the Fellowship had walked a considerable distance. Around noon, the day after the attack, the company slowed its pace at last.

Boromir had woken only twice during their hasty travel. The effects of the poison seemed to have finally left his system but he was still weak from blood loss and overexertion. And, while Aragorn insisted the Steward's eldest son was recovering and no longer in danger of death or severe infection, Pippin and Merry refused to leave their friend's side until he was fully hale and hardy. The two Hobbits took turns leading Bill while the other would walk next to pony and held Boromir's giant, limp hand.

The visual signs of companionship and compassion relaxed the original tensions held among Fellowship members. Legolas and Gimli did not argue as often about trivial things. They formed a sort of truce and simply took to friendly competition and childish mockery, which now brought smiles to their companions' faces instead of frowns. Aragorn became less distant and began to interact more with the other members of the Fellowship who weren't already his friends. Gandalf still remained mysterious but he made a point to inform everyone of his plans, weather or not they understood what he was informing them of. Sam began to become more confident and mingled among all the Races, not just his own Kin. But the biggest change was with Frodo. The eldest, raven-haired Hobbit began to laugh and smile more. During the beginning of the Fellowship's travels the immense burden that Frodo carried weighted heavily on his mind and made him naturally suspicious and wary of those around him. While he outwardly wouldn't display any animosity he tended to avoid contact with everyone, preferring to be by himself or with Sam.

That night, the Fellowship stopped in a clearing and set up camp. Soon after, a large fire was built and supper was being prepared. Boromir had once again awoken and was being entertained by his Hobbit friends.

"No, no, I insist!" Boromir argued. "We are friends, are we not?"

Pippin nodded. "Yes, Mister Boromir. We are."

"Then I demand that you simply call me by my given name. No titles, please."

"Very well," Merry relented. "We shall simply call you Boromir."

The Gondorian smiled. "Thank you, Merry. Pippin."

Aragorn eventually wandered over. According to the healer, it was once again time to change the Gondorian's bandages.

"How are you feeling, my friend?" Aragorn asked his fellow Man.

"Much better. I feel my strength returning to me as we speak," Boromir claimed before placing a large hand on the Ranger's shoulder. "You have my thanks, Aragorn."

Aragorn nodded before finishing his duty as a healer. Shortly after he retreated back toward the fire, where his supper awaited. Eventually, everyone joined in the meal before splitting off and going about their routines to prepare for bed. At this point, Frodo and Sam joined their Kin at Boromir's side. Frodo, after being goaded on by the others, told of the wonderful tales of his Uncle Bilbo's adventures. When the topic slowly ventured toward the topic of the One Ring's discovery, the conversation turned sour.

Boromir frowned at learning where Isildur's Bane has rested for hundreds of years. "Surely you jest!" he exclaimed in a booming voice. "How could have such a mighty weapon reside there, unknown, for so long?"

It was Gandalf who responded, having overheard the conversation, "The memory of Man is short. In darkness, the Ring fed and grew in power, where no sane Race might venture."

Boromir scoffed. "And there It should have remained. The Ring has brought nothing but pain and suffering…"

Gandalf looked up and frowned. "No, you are wrong. While it is true that out of sight is out of mind, it does not mean It is out of existence. It will always bring Evil upon Middle Earth so long as It exists. Thus, the Ring must be destroyed."

At this declaration the Fellowship grew quiet. Everyone knew of Boromir's original position at the Council. He made it painfully clear he didn't want to destroy the Ring, but use it for personal gain. The silence hovered, but before it could grow, the Gondorian warrior spoke up.

"That is something I can now see." The Man sighed, rubbing his bearded face with one of his big, calloused hands. "So long as Isildur's Bane exists It will only bring death and destruction… if these last few days account for anything."

The remaining of the Fellowship murmured their agreement with Boromir's announcement. As such, with tension now dispersed, everyone decided to call it a night. With Gimli taking the first watch, the rest settled down in their respective bedding. Soon the sounds of sleeping and snoring filled the clearing.

* * *

Three days passed since the conversation about the One Ring. At this point, the Fellowship was at the very base of the Misty Mountains. The great, grey rocky formations loomed over the nine travelers, offering protection and shade from the beating sun. Pleased with their progress, Aragorn stated that the companions could stop for the remainder of the day. Having found the perfect campsite, the Ranger reasoned that walking any further wouldn't allow the group any suitable resting point. The remainder of the Fellowship didn't complain about the change of plans. In fact, they were all pleased with the additional recreational time.

Right away Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin began making a second lunch for the company. Legolas offered to search the surrounding area for herbs for the stew while Gimli volunteered to accompany him and try his hand at hunting some rabbit or squirrel. Aragorn accompanied them with the plan of searching for some additional firewood. In turn, Boromir started a fire whereas Gandalf was left to be on watch.

Roughly two hours later, the Fellowship was reclining and lounging about the fire, bowls in hand, as they ate. The Hobbits were the first to finish, scraping their bowls clean only minutes after first receiving them. As such, they took it upon themselves to entertain the rest of the group. Frodo began by telling some of Bilbo's least famous adventures before Pippin and Merry interrupted to sing some of the Shire's most legendary drinking songs. When the two cousins were done, Sam took over and told stories of his youth. Needless to say, the Fellowship was pleasantly surprised at the usually quiet, fair-haired Hobbit's natural story-telling ability.

When all was said and done everyone went about his normal duties. Second lunch was quickly cleared up while a perimeter was established and the area was scouted, completely ensuring that the clearing was safe to camp in. Boromir, particularly, was in high spirits. He had finally fully recovered from both his shoulder wound and the effects of the Orc's poison. As such, the Gondorian found himself participating in preparing the campsite. He assisted Aragorn by carrying some of the bigger pieces of dry wood the Ranger had collected earlier to the fire; he helped the Hobbits pitch their small tents under a tree on the far side of the clearing; he aided Legolas in searching the area for a source of water to refill their water skins; he lent a hand to Gandalf when he misplaced his hat and couldn't locate it; he abetted Gimli during his duty on watch by facilitating a nice conversation about Dwarven architecture.

After the long day of relaxing and, for some, working, the Fellowship settled down for a final meal before heading for bed. However, this time, conversation did not focus on the past but on the future.

"Do you think we will have to do anymore fighting?" Pippin voiced, putting his empty bowl on the ground.

Gandalf shifted his gaze from the fire to the youngest Hobbit. "Most certainly. For we are at war, whether we know it or not."

The Fellowship grew silent until Sam spoke up. "Why do you ask, Pippin?"

"I don't know," Pippin sighed. "Its just… I want to give aid to my friends. I don't want to be the one who always needs protecting.

"There is no shame in being unable to fight," Aragorn said.

The Hobbit shook his head. "Oh, I know that. But I want the option, whether to fight or flee. But since I have no training with weapons of any kind, except a slingshot, I only have the one choice to flee and hide…"

Boromir nodded his head in understanding. "I can sympathize with you. When I was young I felt the same." The Man paused, as if thinking, before continuing. "Well, if it is your wish to learn to defend yourself, I see no harm in teaching you."

"Really Boromir! You would do that!"

"I don't see why not. We are on a dangerous quest and it would be beneficial to the group to have many skilled warriors."

Legolas questioned, "Do you have experience teaching, Boromir? If you are uncomfortable, I could teach Pippin."

Boromir smiled. "Yes, I have experience. And I think teaching a Hobbit to spare would be far more similar to teaching a child than an elfling."

"Perhaps you are right."

Aragorn clapped his hands together. "Then it's settled. Tomorrow, after walking, Boromir will start training Pippin with the use of a blade. Does anyone else wish to join them?"

"I will!" Merry exclaimed. "After all, some one needs to protect Boromir next time he faints."

The Fellowship laughed at the off-handed comment. Ignoring his companions, Boromir looked at Frodo. "Do you also wish to join?"

Frodo shook his head. "Uncle Bilbo taught me how to use a blade many summers ago. But, possibly, I will join you after you teach Pippin and Merry the basics."

Boromir shifted his gaze until it rested on Sam.

"Oh, no thank you, Mister Boromir. I will stick to my pots and pans. They're much more manageable!" Sam defended.

Boromir chuckled at the double meaning. "Very well."

With that, the conversation ended. Lots were drawn to see who would take which night watch. Fortunately for Boromir, he was given the last watch of the night, personally his favorite because he found pleasure in watching the sunrise each morning. When the Gondorian ultimately relieved Gimli from his guard in the early morning he couldn't help but look upon the hodgepodge of people laid before him.

Boromir could not help but smile. The Fellowship had come a long way. They once resented each other, but now they were beginning to display a friendship that would not easily be broken. It was a companionship that would last throughout the ages and be told in tales and songs. Before, if someone had asked Boromir if he thought the quest would succeed he would have said no. But now he wasn't so sure. Now he saw a glimmer of hope that was no longer too far away to imagine. The future was seemed bright, and that was all Boromir could ask for.

Simply put, Boromir was finally impressed with the Fellowship.

* * *

**A/N: YAY! It feels so good to finally have this story fully edited. **

**IMPORTANT!**

**This story is actually the **_**prequel**_** to another that I am currently writing. I needed a way to establish the loyalty and friendship between Boromir and the rest of the Fellowship, especially the Hobbits, to create the correct atmosphere for my next sotry. Important things to note: 1) Boromir's friendship with Merry and Pippin, 2) the tenacity of Orcs, 3) the acquired ability of Merry and Pippin's sword fighting skills, 4) Boromir's realization for the need to destroy the Ring. All this will play an important role in the sequel. **

**Here is the general summary of the sequel:** At Amon Hen, Boromir is slain at the hands of the Uruk-hai. The horn of Gondor isn't broken but is taken as a trophy by Lurtz. Merry and Pippin, now captives of the Orcs and Uruk-hai, attempt to escape before reaching Isengard. The Hobbits are able to blow on the Horn before they are caught. By the power of the horn (and the Valar), Boromir's ghost returns to aid the Hobbits to escape. As a result, for the remainder of the war, Boromir is able to come to aid any of the Fellowship who calls upon him.

**Be aware! This is an extremely generalized (and not very detailed) description of my next LOTR story. Needless to say, the story will be multi-chaptered and span throughout the remainder of the last two books (**_**The Two Towers, Return of the King**_**). I don't know when I would be able to start posting because of its length and the amount of time it takes to edit.**

**Please REVIEW! Review, review, review.**

**Reviews let me know that all my writing and editing isn't in vain. If I don't get many responses I probably won't post the sequel and keep this story as an unattached one-shot (which it very well may be). This said, I accept both the good and the bad. I know I'm not perfect and sometimes I forget to correct concept/grammatical errors. Only you can help me become a better writer!**

**Thank you!**


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